


Lonely Angel

by LicieOIC



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Angels, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-30
Updated: 2015-02-20
Packaged: 2018-01-10 12:59:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 8,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1160006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LicieOIC/pseuds/LicieOIC
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rose Tyler led an ordinary life. Until she met a man called the Doctor, who claims to be an angel, the only survivor of a war between Heaven and Hell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The beginning of this was written by lyricalprose (as marked), I was given permission to continue it.

(This part written by lyricalprose.)

“You’ve got such a quaint idea of heaven, you little apes do.”

The girl doesn’t say anything. She just looks at him with those big brown human eyes, the ones that make him want to tell her everything - especially the things he shouldn’t.

He gestures up at the sky, which is blue and only slightly cloudy, the picture of a perfectly ordinary midsummer day. “You think it’s some wonderful land in the sky, all rainbows and harps and everything you’ve ever wanted. Up there, just past the clouds, waiting for you when you’re dust.” A humorless chuckle slips out of him, amusement at the absurdity of the idea. “But it isn’t. ‘S just a place, just like this. Fair sight stuffier, too. And now it’s not - it’s not even there.”

Rose grabs for his hand - and it’s not an instinctual reaction, the way he grabs right back, latching onto her almost desperately. Angels don’t have that sort of draw, that need for physical and emotional closeness that humans do.

All the same, he doesn’t think twice about lacing their fingers together, about clasping her small warm hand in his large cool one and holding on tight.

Rose pulls a bit closer to him - tucks herself against his side and places her free hand on his arm, fingers curling into the leather of his jacket.

Softly, so softly he almost can’t hear over the noise of the busy London street, she asks, “What happened?”

There aren’t words for it, really. Not ones that humans can understand. There’s no way to describe the sight of Heaven on fire, or the abominations of Hell that poured onto the fields of battle. There’s no way to describe in English - or Hebrew or Greek or any other human language - the way the place they call Paradise looked while it burned. When he set it alight.

But he wants to tell someone. Has to tell someone. Wants to tell her.

“There was a war, and we lost.”

(The rest written by me.)

* * *

"You can’t be an angel."

"Why not?"

"You sound like you’re from the North."

"Lots of places have a ‘North.’"

She looked at him with one eyebrow raised, not about to believe _that_ for a second.

He huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “Since when are you the authority on what angels are supposed to sound like?”

"All right," she reluctantly conceded. "But angels are supposed to have wings."

He raised his own eyebrow. “How do you know I _don’t?”_

* * *

That was five days ago. He’d turned the conversation away, leaving the broad implication where it lay. She might have been suspicious for a moment on day two, when she’d changed into a Victorian gown and he’d ‘changed his jumper,’ leaving all his usual ‘armor’ intact, but then the excitement of the destination had made her forget all about it.

Now, it was day five, and he tightly gripped her hand as they tore across a battlefield, explosions rocking the ground they ran over, debris and shrapnel flying past them.

She cried out as her foot fell into a crevice and her ankle rolled, but he tugged her up, pulling her right along with him.

"Come _on!”_ he said, impatient and frantic all at once.

"Why don’t you just fly us out of here?" she shouted above the din, irritated that he was agitated with her when it was his fault they were out there in the first place. "I’m guessing it would be faster than my silly little ape legs!"

"Because I can’t!" he growled back over his shoulder, his face more fierce than she’d ever seen it and it stunned her into silence.

Another explosion sent them to their knees, her hand flying out of his grasp. At his yell of pain, she blindly scrambled to her feet and ran to him, but he was already up and stumbling forward again, despite the fact that he’d been hit by some kind of refuse. He clutched his shoulder and she saw torn leather, liquid bright as rubies beneath, and her breath caught in her throat. She didn’t think angels could bleed.

It was only a few moments before they were safe within his magnificent ship and she leaned against the doors, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. He went directly to the controls and sent them off.

He moved his shoulder. Winced.

Spurred into motion, she went to him, taking his elbow on the uninjured side. “Come on. Let’s go have a look at it.”

He shook her off. “I’ll heal, I’m not like you,” he said in a low voice.

"Don’t be stubborn," she said with a frown. "I can see it hurts."

With a sigh that seemed torn from his soul, he turned his back to her and carefully shrugged out of his scarred leather jacket, gritting his teeth against the pain the movement caused. The garment fell to the grating and her mouth fell open.

Wings. Extending from his back, through clever slits in his dark jumper, white, tipped with gold, one full and breathtakingly beautiful, the other bent and twisted.

"Do you see, Rose?" he asked, his voiced pained, but she suspected it went deeper than the physical. His head was turned to the side but he still was not quite looking at her. "Do you understand?"

She should have guessed. Since when does an angel need a ship to travel? Since when does an angel ever need to run?

"How can I fly… with one broken wing?"

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

He let her bandage the wound. Because he knew it would make her feel better to do something human for him. Because she took his hand and said “Please? For me?” and he could deny her nothing.

“How did it happen?” she asked, as she carefully cleaned the area of slivers of shrapnel, and he had to give her credit for not shying away. He couldn’t see the wound clearly, but he doubted it was pretty. “I mean, you weren’t always--”

“Grounded? No,” he said, barely feeling what she was doing, though it would have been extremely painful for anyone else. “Happened during the war.” He wasn’t going to elaborate beyond that.

“Can’t you fix it?” She glanced away from her task to look at the advanced technology he had around the medbay.

“Usually. S’different for me, because of how it happened. I’d have to cut it off and let it grow back. There’s another way, but it’s much more complicated.”

She shivered as she began rolling gauze around his torso. “Can’t even picture that, seems so wrong... Cutting off an angel’s wing.”

“Had a friend who did it to someone once, just for fun,” he said absently, his eyes faraway. “He was jealous of their wings. Sapphire blue, bluer than the clearest ocean. Joke was on him, though... The wings grew back, prettier than ever, as if each blue filament had been dipped in silver.” He looked at her then, surprised at the look of shock on her face. “What?”

“For fun?” she said, her voice higher than usual. “That considered acceptable entertainment for angels?”

“Of course not!” he said, frowning. “He was punished.”

“So, that makes it okay? And you were friends with him?”

Frustrated, he grabbed the bandages from her hand and tore the strip, securing the gauze with a rough knot. “Don’t try and make me fit in a comfortable little box so your human mind can understand me better, Rose. It doesn’t work.”

“But if that’s the kind of person you hang around with, what kind of person are _you,_ Doctor?”

 _“Hung_ around with,” he corrected, bitterly. “They’re all gone, now, remember? There’s just me.” He looked at the stark white floor, emotions roiling within. He struggled to get them under control, not wanting to scare her with the storm in his eyes. “I’m alone.”

She was silent for a moment. “There’s me,” she said finally, in a small voice.

Her hand came into his line of vision and he looked up, her large honey eyes full of compassion. With his uninjured arm, he took her hand and tugged her closer, wrapping her in an awkward hug. She moved her hands around him, eventually settling on his waist, and he realized she was trying to avoid the wings. They’ed hugged before, but he’d always had his jacket on. It had been a very long time since he’d been without a shirt in front of anyone, and now that the atmosphere was no longer quite so clinical, he was starting to feel a bit warm wherever Rose was touching him. Moreover, he was finding that he... rather liked it.

“It’s all right,” he said, his gruff voice softer than usual. “They’re not delicate.”

Slowly, her hands moved a bit higher for a proper hug, a few feathers brushing against the backs of her hands and she gasped. He pulled back in concern to look at her face, but it was full of wonder, just like when he showed her some new planet or civilization.

“So soft,” she said. Her arms gently squeezed him and he suspected she was being careful because of his injury. She stepped away then, playing with her fingers and not meeting his gaze.

He sighed. “You want to touch them, don’t you?”

She blushed and ducked her head. “No, no, that’s--”

“Go ahead,” he said, feigning indifference, when he was internally holding his breath. Traditionally, such contact would only be initiated by those intimately familiar with each other, and never with a lower species. But those that would uphold those standards were dead, so who was to shame him for it?

Showing off a bit, he fully extended the unbroken wing, knowing how impressive it looked when not tightly pressed close to his body. He was not disappointed when Rose’s mouth fell open. He watched as she stretched out her hand, the fingers shaking just a little, as if she still couldn’t quite believe what was in front of her. The thought brought a tiny smile to the corners of his mouth. They’d been sitting in the medbay for at least fifteen minutes, his wings in full view, and now that she was about to touch one, it was starting to become real for her.

She ran her hand gently down the length of the primaries and he suppressed a shudder at the contact. Being shirtless was one thing, it had been even longer since anyone had touched him in such a manner.

“Wow,” she breathed. “So beautiful.”

He marveled that she didn’t seem to care that he was broken and couldn’t fly. All she saw was the beauty. It was part of what made her so special. She lifted the hand that had touched him, frowning.

“What’s this?” she asked, extending her palm towards him, revealing that it was sprinkled with iridescent gold powder.

“Oh, right, forgot about that part,” he said, flexing the wing and refolding it behind himself.

“Well, what is it?”

He grinned. “Taste it.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Completely serious.”

Watching him warily, she cautiously licked one finger and surprise spread across her features. “That’s...!”

“Euphoric, isn’t it?” he said, smugly.

“Feels like... champagne bubbles, floating through my whole body!” She was staring at her hand and he knew she was resisting the urge to lick the rest of her fingers. His stomach twisted suddenly at the thought, and he was struck with the simultaneous hope that she would and she wouldn’t.

He edged off the exam table and began pulling his jumper on. It was torn and blood stained, but he felt the need to put something between them, turning away from these odd feelings concerning his companion. The pain in his shoulder had faded by then, so redressing wasn’t an arduous task. He began talking to further distract himself. “Once upon a time, angels weren’t just a myth or a belief, we had a more active presence. When different species found out what angel dust did for them, it became the hottest commodity anywhere. Just a few grams would sell for thousands on the black market.” The jumper folded around his wings and he used the sonic screwdriver to seal the edges of the material.

“S’that where the name for the drug came from?” she asked.

He barked a laugh, finding it funny that she would focus on the name and not the fact that she had a small fortune sitting literally in the palm of her hand. And then he wondered when was the last time he’d found something genuinely amusing. She was smiling at him and he couldn’t help but smile back.

Rose.

Special, indeed.

* * *


	3. Chapter 3

It was the little things that surprised her the most. He still needed to eat (“My body needs fuel, the same as yours does!”) and he had a thing for bananas. (“Bananas are good!” “What, he looked upon the banana and saw that it was good?” He just rolled his eyes at her.) He never needed to brush his teeth, he just regulated the bacteria in his mouth. He also didn’t need to sleep much, bragging about his superior biology every time she went to the galley, dead on her feet, in the ‘mornings’ for a cuppa (morning being relative, of course).

So, after a close call adventure featuring some large green aliens, she was quite surprised when she found him in the library one day, his repaired leather jacket slung over the arm of a sofa, and him asleep against the cushions, a book on his chest. His wings were underneath him and she wondered how that could be comfortable and if angels ever got pins and needles.

Since he was asleep, she took great pleasure in looking her fill. He wasn’t handsome by conventional standards, but something about him appealed to her, especially seeing his face so unguarded, looking so at peace. She didn’t recognize the book, the cover featured the strange circular symbols she had seen around the ship, but she watched it rise and fall slowly as he breathed in and out.

Just as she decided she should leave, he flinched, his hands clenching, and she paused. He was muttering, too low at first to make out actual words, then his entire body began to shake and the book fell to the floor. “No! No, please, I don’t want to!” he said, agonized, his tone climbing in pitch.

Rose knelt beside the sofa, clutching his arm. “Doctor? Wake up!”

His distress was becoming more and more frantic as he thrashed away from her, only to be blocked by the back of the couch, effectively trapping him to his subconscious mind. Wordless cries tore from his throat and she shook his shoulders, calling loudly, “Doctor, you have to wake up! Doctor, please!”

He sat bolt upright as his eyes flew open and they both gasped. It seemed to take him a few seconds to realize where he was as he blinked, staring at the shelves of books. Her fingers were still clutched in his jumper and she was reluctant to let him go.

“Doctor?”

Turning to the sound of her voice, he looked at her as though he as though he wasn’t quite sure she was really there. “Rose?” His voice was a little too high and too soft. He licked his lips and drew in a shaky breath. “What are you doing?”

“You looked like you were having a nightmare. I woke you up.” She conveniently left out the bit about ogling him beforehand. “Are you all right?”

“Fine.” His gaze slid away.

She narrowed her eyes. “Liar.”

Irritated at being called such a thing, even if it was true, he frowned at her and swung his legs to the floor, standing up, forcing her to let go of him. “It’s nothing you need to concern yourself with,” he said, gruffly, stretching his wings a little after sleeping on them and resettling them as he reached for his jacket.

“Does that mean you wouldn’t be concerned if I had a nightmare?”

“What?” He turned to look at her, noting she had stood up.

She crossed her arms over her chest. “You heard me. Superior hearing, right?”

“Yes, and well, yes! Of course I’d be concerned,” he sputtered.

“So, how is it different for you?”

“Well...” He glanced around, as though the answer would be nearby. “There are... things I could do... to help you get back to sleep.” He tapped his temple. “Reach inside and send you off without dreams. Little trick.”

“Okay,” she said, nodding, “I certainly couldn’t do that for you. But that doesn’t mean I can’t help.”

He looked skeptical and she sighed. “You might not be aware of this, Doctor, but us stupid apes have developed coping mechanisms for things like nightmares, without reaching inside our brains.” She closed the distance between them and took his free hand unoccupied by the leather jacket. “Was it about the war?” she asked, more gently.

He grunted noncommittally, not looking at her.

“Talking not one of your coping skills, then?” she asked with a tiny smile.

“Not as a rule.”

“All right. Plan B.” She tightened her grip and pulled him out of the library, half dragging him down the corridor.

“Rose? Where are we going?” he asked, confused.

“How much sleep did you get?” she returned, ignoring his question.

“Thirty minutes, give or take,” he said without bothering to pinpoint. 

“And you’ve said you need about three to rest, six for a full recharge, yeah?”

“Yes...” he said, slowly drawing out the word, still not understanding where she was going with this.

She pulled him through a door that he recognized as the one leading to his bedroom. His pulse elevated. “What are you--”

“Ah, good!” she said, finally dropping his hand. 

She went to the bed he hardly used and picked up a pair of pajamas. Rose tossed the garments to him and he reflexively caught them. He frowned, his ship had to be conspiring with his companion because only she could have laid out his sleepwear. It would also explain how they reached his bedroom so quickly.

“Get changed. I’m helping you get to sleep,” she said, the determined look in her eyes rivaling that of her mother.

The side of his face suddenly tingling in remembrance, he went for the ensuite without another word. When he emerged a few minutes later in a plain vest and gray stretch trousers, Rose had turned down the covers, removed her hoodie and trainers, and was sitting on top of the dark blue duvet. His hearts again beat faster when she patted the space next to her.

“Listen, Rose, it’s not that I don’t appreciate what you’re trying to do, but I’m fairly certain that--” he began, only to be cut off with a pointed look from her.

“Come on, you stubborn git, I don’t bite.” She tucked her tongue in the corner of her smile. “Much.”

With a sigh, he padded over and climbed into the bed. She’d piled up the pillows and reclined on them as they each got comfortable. By then, he’d pretty much resigned himself to whatever plan his silly human had concocted, so when she opened her arms to him, he went without a protest. She tucked his head into the crook of her neck and his hands automatically went to her waist. The hand on his back was no longer shy of touching his wings, but still gentle as she moved her fingers in small soothing circles in the space between the two feathered appendages.

With her other hand, she began running her fingers through his short cropped hair and his muscles instantly began to relax. A soft moan that was closer to a purr escaped him as his eyes drifted shut. He tightened his hold on her just a bit as he took in a deep breath, filling his lungs with her scent, smelling the soap she used and the dab of perfume, but beneath all that, the essence that was just _Rose._

Behind his eyelids, he noticed the lights in his room dimmed and silently thanked his ship. And for once, he was not afraid of falling asleep. He had his own angel looking out for him. Sooner than he thought possible, he was beginning to drift, melting into her as she continued to gently massage his scalp.

Clever Rose. Compassionate Rose. Beautiful Rose. His Rose.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where the story gets its 'Teen' rating, for non-explicit intimacy.

The first time, he was nervous, but tried not to show it. Walked around the console, idly turning dials and flipping switches to ‘stabilize their spot in the vortex,’ but it was utter nonsense. He just didn’t want to look at her when she yawned and indicated she was off to bed and he said “Been about five days for me... Suppose I should get some rest as well.”

He had chanced a glance at her and she smiled. “Okay,” was all she said as she left the room and headed down the corridor.

He’d sighed, had been hoping she would ask him about sleeping after the last incident with the nightmares, but for once her curious human nature had failed him. He stayed to tinker with some wires for a few minutes until a particularly nasty electrical zap had him walking to his room, fingers in his mouth. He really did need some sleep and there was no sense in messing with a stroppy time ship when she didn’t want to be messed with.

There was light coming from the beneath his door and he frowned. He opened it and froze, seeing Rose sitting up in his bed reading one of those trashy novels she liked so much. His insides twisted when she looked up and smiled at him.

“Was wondering where you were. Thought you might have changed your mind about sleeping.”

“Ah... No.”

“Well, get changed then. I’m knackered.”

While in the ensuite, pulling off his clothes and getting into his pajamas, he’d smiled big enough to crack his face. If this meant what he thought it did, he’d never be afraid of closing his eyes again. Rose kept all the demons away with her light.

After that night, whenever he felt tired, he just said “Shall we go to bed?” and she would meet him there, teeth brushed, dressed in little camisoles and cotton sleep shorts. She never slept in his bed unless he was there, but even so, she’d crawled right into his hearts with her determination to keep him safe. Since the war, it was just his ship that had watched over him. Now he had two fine ladies bent on his wellbeing and the feeling swept over him like a warm tide, kept him buoyant even in the face of the danger they occasionally found in their travels.

He knew he loved her. Had probably done so since he’d told her to forget him, he’d just been too daft to see it. But he would never tell her. He couldn’t burden her like that, she deserved better than some old broken soldier of Heaven’s Army. She deserved a proper life and he couldn’t give her that. He wasn’t worthy of her, because he knew she’d take him into her single heart without a thought for herself and he couldn’t be so selfish.

At least, he thought he couldn’t. Then Utah happened. And deep in an underground bunker, they’d faced one of the demons he’d risked everything for to rid the universe of them. Had burned Paradise, just so those things would cease to be. And he thought he’d lost her. And part of him felt cold and dead again. Fear had spurred his action until Rose stopped him, shining her light even on the darkest, vilest thing ever created. Even it had known that he loved her.

Back on the ship, she’d disappeared with the pretty boy into the depths of the corridors, presumably getting him settled. Just one trip, because he’d helped, the Doctor didn’t want him there but she’d asked and just like before, he couldn’t deny her. He moved around the console, sending them into the vortex, and his hearts thudded in his chest because, without her in sight, he could almost feel like he’d still lost her. He needed to see her, to hold her again, to breathe her in, because he’d been scared that the most wonderful thing to happen to him in his long life had been taken from him.

“Found a room for him,” her voice came suddenly from behind him, and his left heart stuttered. He turned to see her doing that cheeky thing with her tongue in her smile. “Next to the bins. Don’t think your ship is too fond of him.”

“Yes, well...” He mentally thanked his ship for being on his side, feeling a wave of loyalty in return. Apparently, this was it’s way of telling the interloper ‘don’t touch the girl.’

“Where are we headed?”

He turned back to the controls, flipping a few switches here and there to occupy his hands. “Ohh... Dunno. Thought I’d figure it out after you’d woken up.”

“Have I become so predictable?” she said, laughing lightly. “Go out, run for our lives, go home, sleep?”

“We don’t always run for our lives. I just know you’re usually tired when we do.” He kept his tone casual, like hers, but part of him was thrumming because she’d just called his ship ‘home.’ He’d traveled with others before, of course he had, but he’d always known they’d eventually leave, go back to their own lives. Rose, it seemed, wanted to stay. And suddenly, he didn’t think he could bear to let her go.

She’d been quiet for a while, he thought perhaps she’d taken his suggestion and gone to bed, but when he looked up, she was still standing there on the edge of the grating, playing with the hem of her top. She was biting her lower lip, which he was starting to learn meant she was thinking about something and maybe debating whether or not to talk about it. She’d done the same thing the morning after she’d first slept in his bed, but had not said anything in the end and they’d gone about as normal. He’d told her before he didn’t do domestic and had a feeling that was what had kept her silent.

“Is it true?” she said, finally, her large caramel eyes full of trepidation.

“What?”

“What that thing said.”

Lefty skipped another beat as he realized what she meant.

“It said you loved me,” she continued. “Is it true?”

He dragged in a breath, his bypass system apparently also offline. He gave a stray thought to checking himself out in the medbay, but dismissed it. He knew his suddenly dodgy body mechanics were solely because of the young human girl standing a few steps away. His first urge was to deny it and run, to do what he did best and keep her at arm’s length because he didn’t deserve her. But his second... to give in and be selfish because he couldn’t bear the thought of losing her...

“I can tell you no,” he said, softly, slowly moving closer. “I can tell you that thing has no concept of love, as it knows only hate. That whatever you did to it, it knows nothing about you or me. And that I care very much about you but it isn’t love.” He stood before her and tilted her chin up so he could see her face, so she could see the depth of emotion shining in his eyes. “And it would all be lies, Rose.”

She grabbed him by the leather jacket and pulled him down, crashing her lips against his. After a moment’s surprise, he threaded his fingers into her hair and tilted her head, taking control of their kiss. She opened beneath his questing tongue and she was sweet and warm and slick, gliding against him with a soft moan that completely undid him. He hadn’t been intimately close with anyone in centuries, angels were not celibate creatures, but neither did they feel the need to propagate their species, that hadn’t been necessary. However, as every part of him sang to life under her heated touch, he found he wanted this with her, wanted to lay himself bare and give her everything.

He carried her to his room, their room, where his ship had already taken the presumptuous opportunity of moving all of her things beside his. They wouldn’t find the newly expanded ensuite until after she awakened, hours later.

He made love to her, slowly, ardently, humbly offering his hearts into her keeping. And she whispered to him “Forever,” a promise he sadly knew she couldn’t keep, not his forever. But as a selfish being, he would take her forever and all that she offered, because whatever time Rose chose to give him would be the Heaven he thought he’d lost, even if all he had were memories for the centuries he would be alone afterward. He only hoped he would be enough for her.

He wrapped his wing around her as they slept, covering her with gold specks, marking her as his.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place after the episode "Father's Day."

Her whole body shook with her sobs as she buried her face into his jumper. He held her tightly, his lips against her hair, as his ship hummed comfortingly to both of them. She’d had to watch her father die today. Twice. And he could feel her one human heart breaking. If he could, he’d break his own for her, just so she wouldn’t have to feel the crushing sadness.

“I wouldn’t have left you. Not really,” he murmured. “Would have gone back to the ship, stewed about for a while, then went and begged you to come back. Begged, honestly, on my knees.” He would do anything at that point, if only he could spare her this.

“You should have left me,” she said, her voice choked with tears. “I was so stupid!”

“Oh, no, Rose... You were so _human.”_ He ran one hand through her hair and sighed. “Do you understand now? Why things like this for me? Why we can’t allow one wonderful man to live?”

She nodded, her sobs quieting, but he went on, needing her to truly comprehend how bound he was by the rules of time. As long as she stayed with him, the rules applied to her, too.

“Because if I could get away with that, then what’s to stop me from going back and changing everything else? Stopping the war, saving my people. I can’t. The universe isn’t that forgiving.” He took a deep breath, memories threatening to overwhelm him as they rushed to the forefront, and with an effort, he pushed the darkness back into the deep recesses of his mind. “I have to remember the rules all the time, because the longer I live, more and more of me is stripped away until all that is left is a bitter shell, bent on anger and revenge.” 

He leaned down, kissing the crown of her head, breathing the scent of her shampoo. “You keep the demons away,” he said, his voice growing softer. “You remind me why I keep fighting that part of myself. Because as long as I have you, I have something to lose.”

He pulled back enough to tilt her chin up towards him. He gently brushed away the tracks of her tears and mascara. “There’s another reason I can’t leave you. Not ever. Do you know what that is?” As she shook her head, he ran his hands down her arms to entwine their fingers. He brought their joined hands up between them, pressing a kiss to each of hers. “Because you hold my hearts, Rose. Right here, in these little hands. If I left you, I would stop breathing.”

She managed a watery smile. “Then I’d best be very careful.” Uncertainty crept across her features as her smile faded. “Forgive me?”

He kissed the corner of her mouth, her cheeks, her forehead. “You are always forgiven.”

* * *


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place during "The Doctor Dances."

“The world doesn’t end because the Doctor dances.”

He turned away from the wall, pocketing his sonic, as his gaze raked over her, those endless blue eyes darkening. She shivered slightly, but kept her hand outstretched to him, waiting to see what he would do. 

He’d been on edge ever since Captain Jack had waltzed into the picture and she had a fairly good idea why. With all his remarks about ‘pretty boys,’ it was plain that the Doctor did not like to share. Now that they were alone, she wanted to reassure him that his fears were unfounded. It could only ever be the Doctor for her, and no wonder. The way he was looking at her was making her knees feel like pudding.

“You don’t know what you’re asking, Rose,” he said, moving closer to her.

“I’m asking you to dance.”

“No, you’re not.” His voice was low and rough and she shivered again. “You think you’re asking me to make love to you.” He took her hand and wrapped it around his neck before gently grasping her hips and pulling her against him. “But when an angel _dances,_ it’s an entirely different thing altogether.” He swayed with her across the room and her eyes drifted shut as he placed his mouth next to her ear, whispering, “An angel would join with his love high in the air, and when they were entangled with one another, he’d then pull his wings in close and let them drop. At the last moment, he would catch them up and glide high again, using the force of the fall and subsequent rise to bring them both pleasure. _That_ is the way an angel _dances.”_

He straightened and looked down at her, and she could see the sadness in his eyes. Suddenly, she understood. He _couldn’t_ dance with her in the way of the angels, but he wanted to and he regretted that he couldn’t give that to her. She wrapped both arms around his neck, her fingers sliding through his short hair and she reveled in his soft answering sigh. She wished she could convince him that he wasn’t somehow anything less to her, that she loved him as he was.

“It doesn’t matter,” she said. “We make up our own dance.”

His arms tightened around her and with her ear pressed tightly to his chest, she heard the quickening of his dual hearts. She smiled, pleased that she could do that to him and happy that she wouldn’t let him use his past to define them.

* * *


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place before "Boomtown."

The first morning with Captain Jack aboard, Rose awoke to find herself covered in sparkling angel dust, and a gold tipped feather woven into a small braid in her hair. She snorted in amusement, angel or no, blokes were all the same when it came to marking their territory. Still, she kept the feather in her hairstyle. It was the most personal thing he’d ever given her and the implied connotations made her smile.

She wondered briefly what courting customs were like where he came from, if they existed at all. He’d reluctantly had an uncomfortable talk with her when she’d brought up birth control, stating that angel children were incredibly rare among two of his kind, so getting a human pregnant was beyond impossible, and then he’d disappeared for several hours into the depths of his ship, more or less leaving her to guess that it was the end of the conversation.

Still, what did a male angel do when he met the lady angel of his dreams? Did they have marriage as she knew it? Or was it just a claiming thing? Was that what the feather meant? Maybe the Doctor already considered the two of them married as far as his culture went and that was as married as they were going to get as far as he was concerned and that was why he got upset if she ever got flirty with someone other than him. She wasn’t even sure if she was ready to _be_ married, if that was the case. She sighed as her thoughts jumbled and then came to a grinding halt. There was so much she didn’t know, and really no way she could ask him about it.

Domestics unquestionably still made him uncomfortable, no matter what they were to each other. She was hesitant to hint that him ‘marking’ her in this way meant more than a deterrent to other males. He’d probably make some huffy comment about him being above all that, despite the evidence to the contrary.

She decided she’d let him get away with his ‘claim.’ It was far more subtle than ‘hands off the blond.’ Besides... She liked having a piece of him with her. It gave her the courage she needed to have the conversation with Mickey she’d put off for far too long.

She suspected he knew. Despite the Doctor’s nickname for him, Mickey wasn’t an idiot (not all the time). But it was past time to confirm it for him, that she wasn’t coming back, that they weren’t going to pick up where they left off. And she felt bad. She hadn’t treated him very well since she got swept up in this wonderful blue box. Mickey deserved to move on, and that’s what she would tell him, because whatever their relationship meant, it was going to be Rose and the Doctor, through time and space. Forever.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recognizable dialogue is taken and adapted from "The Parting of the Ways" and the webisode "Born Again."

* * *

She came back for him. Silhouetted in a blinding golden light, tendrils of energy snaking outward, like giant glowing wings around his human angel. He fell to the floor, his hands shaking, eyes wide with terror at the enormity of what she’d done.

_“Rose, you’ve got the power of all of Heaven and Earth running through your head! No mortal is ever meant to do that! It’ll kill you!”_

He loved her.

_“I want you safe. My Doctor.”_

He loved her and she was dying.

_“You can’t control life and death!”_

She was dying and it was all his fault.

_“But I can. The sun and the moon, the day and night.”_

How could he make her understand that she was the sun and the moon to him, that she had to let it go, or she would burn, just like his people, just like Paradise, and he would be alone, but that wasn’t the worst of it. He could survive, only just, being alone, but she had to live. The universe could not be without Rose Tyler. As long as she was there, his hearts would stubbornly go on beating for her. He couldn’t let her sacrifice herself for one broken angel.

_“I think you need a Doctor.”_

He kissed her. To save her, to save him. He drew the power from her, scorching a bright trail inside him, as he poured every bit of love he felt for this one special girl into that moment, imprinting her on his soul. Because this was the tricky part.

_“Every cell in my body’s dying.”_

With everything he had left, he focused on that tiny light she’d placed within him by loving him. The light that kept the darkness at bay. He clutched it firmly in his mind as the fiery energy swirled in and around him, willing it to guide him.

 _Love her,_ he thought, fiercely. _If I remember nothing else afterward, remember this. Love her. Please, love her. Because she is everything. She is my home and my hearts. Never go a single day without letting her know what she means to me, to you, to us. She is the only thing left worth believing in and we need her._

He hoped she would forgive him for not explaining about this before. He hoped he would be someone she liked. He hoped he would be someone worthy of her. He kept his eyes on her for as long as he could, wanting her face to be the last and the first thing he saw.

_“Rose, before I go, I just want to tell you...”_

_I love you. You’re the most compassionate, giving, best person I know. Not just the best of humanity, the best ever. And beautiful. Not for a human, for any species. I always hid and quantified my feelings when I shouldn’t have and I’m sorry. And I love you, I will always love you, no matter where or when or what I look like._

There wasn’t enough time to say all of that, though...

_“You were fantastic. Absolutely fantastic. And do you know what? So was I.”_

Suddenly, everything was red and gold and burning, and he thought for a moment he was dying in the fire that consumed his home as bright energy burst out of him and he was screaming, his eyes squeezing shut, his arms flung stiffly downward. His jacket fell from his shoulders and down his arms to the floor as his wings pushed outward, both of them engulfed in the same golden light as they fully extended into the air, reshaping themselves and becoming whole, feathers settling into a new pattern because they were just a slightly smaller shape now. And then everything was shifting and changing and different and he was left with just one thought in his new, gorgeously haired, head.

_Rose Tyler. I love her._

He looked at her with brand new, warm, brown eyes and smiled, knowing he would love her his whole life. His mind was full of singing and the second thing he became aware of was his magnificent ship, and she was urgently telling him _She’s afraid, be careful with her, don’t go too fast, we need her._ It confused him, he couldn’t understand why Rose would be afraid of him, and in the next second, he realized, as he licked his tongue over his new teeth.

Everything was new. To both of them. And she hadn’t known, he hadn’t explained.

His wings slowly relaxed, lowering themselves from the upright position they’d been in, and he glanced behind himself then stretched them out around his sides with a wide grin, wanting a better look. Still tipped in gold, but the pattern was just a little altered. And there were two; identical, new, smaller than his last set, but strong.

“I told you there was another way besides cutting it off,” he said, and he was pleasantly surprised at his new voice, new accent. Gone was his old, gruff, Northern tones, now he sounded... light, friendly... and like her. “Just more complicated.”

“I’d say this qualifies as complicated,” she said, softly, her eyes still wary. “Is it really you? You haven’t... done a transmat or body swapped or anything, have you?”

“If I had, do you think I’d tell you?” He received a warning tone from his ship and realized he probably hadn’t helped his case. He let the wings settle on his back as he looked at her with amusement and warmth. “It’s really me, Rose. I was dying. To save my own life I changed my body. Every single cell, but... it's still me.” He reached out and took her hand and she let him. “Still the same person who took your hand over a year ago.” He looked away, reminiscing over their time together. “Has it really only been that long?” He looked back, happiness beginning to spread through him at the sight of growing hope in her eyes. “And you’re still you. Still brilliant Rose Tyler, who crawled into my hearts and wouldn’t forget me. You kept away my nightmares, gave me light, and made me better.” He brought her hand to his chest, flattening her fingers on the too-big jumper so she could feel the fast double-beat of his hearts. “New Doctor, same hearts. And they’re still yours.”

Her eyes leapt to his, full of tears. “Doctor?”

He smiled. “Hello.”

She fell into his arms and he wrapped his wings around the two of them, a soft, white and gold cocoon. He would go slowly for her, wait for her to fully accept him, he would be patient until she knew, without a doubt, that he was still her Doctor, that his love hadn’t changed.

 _And then, Rose Tyler,_ he thought, loving the way her name sounded, even in his head, _then we will_ dance.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place during Doomsday, Journey's End, and The End of Time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had this percolating in my head for a while now. Making the graphic clinched it. Only read if you want a kick in the feels.

The change started slowly, spreading out to the tips of each feather, the dark color snaking along each filament like mist. He didn’t see it. As he turned from the white wall and ambled from the room, his vision tunneled. He was able to keep placing one foot in front of the other, but his sorrow eclipsed all else. Somehow, he made it back to the Tardis. By then, his wings were fully black. The mark of his broken hearts.

He didn't notice. It wasn't until he'd exhausted all options, explored every possible loophole, then burned up a sun for the chance to tell her goodbye, that it was brought to his attention. Because she saw and asked him. Unable to tear his face from the image of hers, he stretched a wing in front of himself to look.

"Oh," he commented, his tone only mildly peaked with interest. Because of course they'd gone black. He should have expected it. "It's an angel thing," he told her, not wanting to waste their time with a complicated explanation. "Internal pain, manifesting externally."

"Doctor," she moaned, her hands reaching for his face, only to let them drop a moment later. Only an image. No touch.

In the end, he ran out of time. Because his sins merited one last stab to both of them, one final twist of the knife. Choking on the syllable 'I--' jammed at the back of his throat, the tears fell. Glimmering like rare diamonds on his pale cheeks.

Angel's tears were special, more so than ever, since he was the last. If he could, he would have strung them on a necklace for Rose to wear, like perfect pearls that shone like stars. Anything for her.

They fell heedlessly to the floor, slipped through the grating, and were lost, hissing on some piece of machinery below.

\---

It was his final moment. And despite all the pain, the suffering this incarnation of himself had gone through, he didn't want to go. Because he had seen her one last time, stolen a moment, half-hidden in shadows, his wings covered by his long tan coat. And he was afraid.

Afraid that the next version, the next Doctor, would forget her. Would his precious memories of the only companion he'd ever loved, glassy images wreathed in so much agony, disappear along with this face and form? It seemed sacrilegious somehow. Since she no longer existed in this universe, if he didn't remember her, would she cease to exist?

It was foolish, but then, he was always a coward. Rose was the brave one. Jumping through dimensions just to find him again.

It should have been enough for him, the knowledge that she was safe with her family and a copy of himself. But the jealousy still gnawed at his tattered soul. To be jealous of one's self, that hadn't been exactly new as he'd met himself on occasion before, but it had hurt so much more this time.

A part-human, wingless version of the Doctor, tailor made for Rose to grow old with. He'd known what he had to do almost at the moment his blue-suited twin had emerged from the Tardis. He'd hated it, but he knew it had to happen, just as sure as if it had been a fixed moment in time. Because the universe would surely find a way to rip her away from him again. He wasn't permitted to be selfish. Not even for love.

As the three of them stood on that windy beach with Rose between them and she'd asked the question she'd crossed universes to know the answer to, he'd begged the other Doctor telepathically,

_Don't say it out loud._

He knew it had to be said. But if he had, he wouldn't have been able to part with her. Even now, he clenched his teeth, remembering how close he'd come to telling her. Still, to hear someone with his face, with his _voice_ , speak the words he'd never had a chance to... That would have been torture.

Even so, his hearts had broken anew as the part-human Doctor whispered in her ear and Rose pulled him in for an answering kiss. The angel fancied that his own lips tingled. Wishful thinking. A memory of kisses long ago.

He pulled off his coat and threw it aside, looking down at his hands as they glowed with golden motes of light. Behind him, feathers were dropping from his wings, evaporating in a puff of dark smoke as each one hit the grating. The rush of pain and fire through his veins was welcome, even as his fear surged.

_Don't forget._

The words echoed in his mind. The words he'd wanted to say to young Rose, heading off to her future on New Year's Day. _Don't forget me._ Now it became, _Don't forget her._ A plea to his future self.

As the light and pain receded from his violent regeneration, he was only dimly aware he was screaming.

Green eyes popped open and the new new new new Doctor quickly took inventory of his reborn self. He gave a derisive shake of his head as he glanced over his shoulder. Of course he needn't have worried. Every single cell of his body might be brand new, but there were some things that couldn't change.

His new wings were a deep golden hue, tipped in black, as though dipped in ink, the dark color overlaid on the shimmering gold in a fancy scrolled design. No one else would know what it meant, but that didn't matter.

 _He_ knew. He would carry the memory of his golden girl and his love for her with him, always.


End file.
